Sundae Sunday
by alyseci5
Summary: "Fancy getting out of the sun for a bit?"  Abby/Connor


**Pairing:** Abby/Connor

**Disclaimer:** Primeval and its characters belong to Impossible Pictures. No copyright infringement is intended. This is fanfiction, written solely for love of the show.

**Author's Notes:** Written for tay_21's kissing meme request of Abby/Connor and ice cream, for my kissbingo **card** square 'experimental: whipped cream'. Thanks as always go to Aithine for the beta, especially as I'm making her go above and beyond this week.

-o-

The sun was already hot overhead, despite Abby's wristwatch putting the time at just a little after ten. Even this early the air had a heavy quality to it, the kind that said that today would be hot and lazy, no breeze to cool things down, and, not for the first time, Abby was seriously thinking of swiping Connor's hat. He probably wouldn't object too much if she did, but it didn't seem fair somehow, especially as he tended to burn more than she did. Instead, she sighed and pushed her sunglasses more firmly up her nose, squinting at Connor through them.

"Fancy getting out of the sun for a bit?"

He blinked at her for a moment - how he wasn't sweltering in that layered outfit of his, she'd never know - and then he glanced around the park, frowning slightly. She could see his problem - despite the hour there were already lots of people scattered about, with families camped in every bit of available shade. She liked kids well enough; that didn't mean she wanted to risk being brained by an errant Frisbee or mown down by a pack of rampant toddlers, crazed by that rarest of things, a sunny day in May.

Connor was eyeing an impromptu football match with either interest or trepidation - she couldn't quite tell which - and she figured it was better to nip that idea in the bud.

"The lake?" she suggested. It was a bit further into the park, and she was pretty sure that the actual boating part of the equation didn't start operating until later in the day, which meant that it might be a bit quieter. And the caf might be open. The siren call of a cold drink was beckoning, something cool and frosty, with condensation forming on the glass.

Just the thought was making her mouth water.

Connor shrugged and smiled at her, tilting his head so that his hat shaded his eyes. "Sounds good. Race you to it?"

"You've got to be bloody joking," she said. "In this heat?"

He grinned at her, delighted. "Well, this is obviously our summer, Abbs. Today and today only. Got to make the most of it."

She didn't point out that making the most of it did not, in her opinion, include running, not when the air was this sultry. She did enough running at work, thank you very much; today was Sunday, day of rest and all that lark.

"How about we don't run," she suggested pointedly, "and I buy you an ice cream instead?"

He grinned at her again, snapping out a quick, "Deal," and grabbing at her hand. She curled her fingers around his, his damp palm pressing against hers, and the tips of his fingers firm and rough against the soft skin on the back of her hand. It was still new, holding his hand in public like this, even if it meant either dragging him behind her like a reluctant child, or being dragged behind him just for some variety as he rushed off to investigate something or other, and the novelty of it hadn't worn off yet.

"What's your hurry?" she asked, tugging on his hand to slow him down and laughing at the wounded little look he aimed back at her. When she didn't give in to his urging, he finally gave her a sheepish little smile, slowing his steps until they were walking sedately, for once, side by side and hand in hand.

-o-

It was cooler down by the boating lake, and Abby paused for a moment by the railings just to watch the ducklings. They were cute little things, all flurries of movement on the water, doggedly following in their mother's wake.

"Hmm," said Connor thoughtfully. "Hope there aren't any pike in there or those things are goners." It was just like him. She rolled her eyes and let him pull her eagerly on towards the caf, casting a last worried little glance back towards the ducklings as they disappeared into the reeds.

She hoped there **weren't**pike in the lake. Surely there wouldn't be, not when it was used largely for the paddle or row boats that were pulled up next to the bank? It wasn't exactly a fishing lake, and she had no idea what kind of fish it would have anyway. They just weren't exotic enough for to fall into her usual field.

"Should we hire a boat later?" asked Connor absent-mindedly; he wasn't really paying any attention to her answer. His focus was on the board outside the caf, the one that showed, among other things, the varieties of ice cream they sold. That was typical of Connor as well. She poked him lightly with one finger, ignoring the little offended huff of air he let out.

"If you want anything more than a cornet, you're paying," she said, ignoring his disappointed look. She knew his appetite, and it wasn't like she didn't pay for most of the shopping anyway. If he wanted one of those fancy sundaes he was eyeing, he could put his own hand in his pocket.

"Not even a 99?" He pouted a little, which was both irritating and appealing. And she wasn't that good at saying no to him.

"Maybe a 99," she conceded. "But today was your idea. **You** asked me out. Technically I think that means you're supposed to buy **me**dinner." She paused for a moment's reflection. "Or ice cream, anyway. So do you want a cornet or a 99?"

He didn't answer her straight away, instead staring at her with a strange expression on his face, his brow furrowing in a small frown. And then he cleared his throat, asking a little self-consciously, "Would you like a sundae, Abby?"

Now it was her turn to be a little tongue-tied. She'd only meant to tease him a little. She hadn't really expected him to take her words so seriously, or to treat this like it was a proper date when they didn't really do the dating thing. They'd jumped straight from colleagues to friends and now this, skipping the whole 'dating and getting to know you over dinner' thing, and so far it had worked for them. But maybe if Connor was taking it seriously, that meant that she should take it - and Connor - a little more seriously, too.

"Yeah, okay," she said. "Strawberry, please."

He nodded gravely, like her choice in ice cream was suddenly the most important thing in the world to him, when really he was actually a bit crap at doing the considerate boyfriend thing. Not that she was much better at the girlfriend thing, and not that she'd consider swapping him for someone who was a little less crap at the boyfriend thing, anyway. Anyone else would probably be a lot more crap at the whole 'being her best friend and saving her life/the world' thing, although she'd probably be able to hold onto her hairdryers a little longer without a resident geek cannibalising them for parts.

Plus she loved him. There was that, too.

"You wanna find a couple of seats?" he asked, his attention already wandering back to the board. "I'll bring them over."

"Okay," she said, scanning for a suitable table. "And no whipped cream on mine, remember?"

He forgot, of course, which shouldn't be a surprise given that he only listened to about half of the things that came out of her mouth anyway. When her sundae finally arrived, piled high with canned whipped cream and with a small and rather battered strawberry perched precariously on top, she eyed it with a sigh.

"Don't you wan... oh." Connor at least had the decency to look sheepish as she dug her spoon in and rescued the strawberry from drowning in gallons of fake cream, popping it into her mouth. It tasted much better than it looked, which wasn't difficult. Now all she had to do was get past the cream to the actual proper ice cream underneath.

She dug her spoon back into the top layer, carefully scooping out as much cream as she could with one small spoon. And then, just as carefully, she dumped it on top of Connor's chocolate sundae.

It startled a laugh out of him and she hid a grin, moving her spoon back to her own dish for another load, one that was just as carefully dumped in his dish as the first one.

Connor grabbed for his own spoon, trying to keep up with her, but as soon as he managed to shovel one spoonful into his mouth, she dumped another one into his dish. They ended up with duelling spoonfuls, Connor trying to fend her off, spluttering cream as he laughed. It should have been disgusting, but this was Connor, with his eyes bright and gleeful, crinkling at the corners with mirth, and with cream smeared all over his lips.

What the hell. If this was supposed to be a date - a proper, Sunday in the park type of date - there was nothing stopping her.

She reached over the table, sinking her fingers into the front of Connor's waistcoat, and pulled him towards her, planting her mouth on his.

She'd never liked the taste of whipped cream out of a can: it was too sweet, too artificial, and it hit the back of her throat with an unpleasant tingle. But it tasted differently when it was on Connor's lips; it was just sweet enough, just **real**enough, and the tingle she felt this time went all the way through her, and was simply down to Connor, nothing artificial about it at all.

She sat back in her chair, watching a little smugly as Connor gaped at her. His mouth was swollen and a little red, and the force of her kiss had pushed his hat further back on his head so that his hair peaked out from underneath the brim, tousled and adorable.

"I think we should have more days out like this," she said briskly, sinking her spoon back into her dish and coming up with proper ice cream this time. It tasted sweet and smooth on her tongue, but somehow still fell short when compared to the taste of Connor. "There's something to be said for sundaes on a Sunday."

The End


End file.
